


Remembrance

by shurra



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Character death is mentioned, Depression, Drawing, M/M, hes mentioned - Freeform, its okay we'll get over it, kinda marco, thank god there isnt any half jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shurra/pseuds/shurra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Marco dies, Jean begins to draw and is constantly trying to draw Marco. However, he just can't, something is always wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first fic, well first on this website. Please be nice and I apologize in advance. Also I've been out of the fandom for a while and was pushed to write this by a friend. This friend was my beta reader, Thanks bunches Vicky.

   The day started like most of his days: wake up, draw, sleep. His room cluttered with the failed drawing and pencils that had been worn down to the eraser. The shades kept shut as to keep the outside world away. The food his mother set by the door, untouched, in attempts to make him eat. His will to live was slowly drifting away.

Jean Kirstein was not the man he used to be. He used to pick fights with Eren just for fun. Whereas now, he hasn’t seen Eren since that day. He used to fight with everything he had, now everything he had is gone. He used to joke about his love for his best friend, now he regrets more than anything, that he would have said “I love you”. Jean is a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

As Jean woke up, he began to draw. He always started with the same facial outline, always ended with a different outcome. Some days, this was enough to drive Jean insane. He could never figure out what was wrong, but something always was.

As the pencil glides across the page, light enough as to barely leave a trace, he begins his first sketch. He starts with drawing the face shape.  _ ‘No’ _ , Jean thought,  _ ‘This isn’t right’.  _ He rips the page out of his journal and adds it to today’s pile of rejects.

_ ‘Start again’ _ he thinks. He begins the process again, he begins to sketch the outline of the top of the head. Then draws the facial shape.  _ ‘This is it’. _ Jean moves on to his favorite feature, Marco’s eyes. 

Those eyes, the way they squeezed together so tightly when Jean made some dumb joke. They used to hold so much life, now those eyes haunt him at night.  Jean used to joke that Marco’s eyes reminded him of the questionable coffee they would drink in training. But in Jean’s actual opinion, they remind him of childhood. They remind him of the teddy bear Marco would carry around everyday, because he was scared to be alone. His eyes were so innocent, as if nothing could ever happen. The best accent to those eye, were the brown patches of pigment under them. Jean would give anything to see those beautiful brown eyes again. To crack a joke and watch them scrunch up in the cutest way. But all he can seem to remember is the way they were distorted that day.

_ ‘Start over’  _ Another page ripped out of his journal.  _ ‘Something's wrong, he didn’t look like this’ _ He begins again. 

Jean becomes so overwhelmed in his drawing, he doesn’t notice his mother walk into the room. This has become a habit since  **he** was gone. The tendency to shut everything out, and let no one in. He’s in his own world, not to be bothered by anything but this one, single picture, that he sees overplayed in his mind everyday. He just has to jot it down on paper, and get it right, he can’t make a mistake. Constantly over analyzing the slightest detail, until he can’t breath. His heart, clenched in his chest, as if it skips a beat, and his lungs struggling to take a breath. Then, he starts over.

“Jean?” His mother calls out to him. She receives no reply, just like normal. But today, she is not going to accept her son not answering. She want to fix her son and she wants the best for him.

“Jean”, she walks towards her son, “Jean answer me”. Again she receives no answer. As she approaches her son, she notices his bloodshot eyes and the dried tears, that had at one point streamed down his face. 

She places a hand on his shoulder, “Honey, it’s been 3 years. He’s gone.”

“Mom…” Jean whispers. He looks up at her, she hardly recognizes him. His hollow cheeks, his sunken eyes, and his ghostly white skin. 

“Oh Jean, what’s happened to you? Do you think he would have wanted this?” Her eye widening with worry, she hates seeing him like this.

“Mom, I just- I miss him so much. Why did they have to take him from me?” Jean begins to cry again, he can’t maintain eye contact with his mother anymore. He doesn’t want her to see the mess he has become. 

“Honey, why are you still drawing him?” She asks, “You know it’s painful, so why do it?”

“Mom, I can’t”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t remember his face.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry :( if you wanna yell at me add me on tumblr: owo-username


End file.
